


human instinct

by freakymcgoo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Crying, Episode: s15e08 Our Father Who Aren't In Heaven, Guilty Dean Winchester, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Episode: s15e03 The Rupture, Sad Dean Winchester, excessive amounts of prose, praying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-04-19 08:01:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21882472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakymcgoo/pseuds/freakymcgoo
Summary: Dean hesistated a moment before sitting down on the edge of his bed. The mattress dipped beneath him as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He hung his head, exhaustion like a chain around his neck. Fix it. Fix it. Fix it."Cas, you got your ears on?"-Chuck angrily throws Dean out of Purgatory, but Cas is left behind. Regretful and upset, Dean sits at the edge of his bed and prays.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 95





	human instinct

**Author's Note:**

> I have a little theory of mine that Chuck finds out what Dean is up to in Purgatory and throws him out. Luckily for us, Chuck always seems to forget Cas exists, so he's trapped in there and is able to get the Leviathan blossom. Probably won't happen, but just to be safe, I wrote it myself. Here y'all go.

In front of Dean and Castiel, the door to Purgatory twisted and entwined around itself, blazing like a bolt of lightning suspended in the air. The sparks circulating through the sliver of light produced a dull hum, an oddly comforting sound considering what was on the other side. Dean was sincerely thankful there was something, anything, other than the heavy silence hanging above their heads. Over that, stirring in the broad expanse of the room, were Adam’s parting words. 

“Since when do we get what we deserve?” he said softly, eyes flickering over to Castiel. The understanding in Adam’s eyes ripped into Dean’s chest, being the already mangled, raw mess of pain that it was.  _ I don’t deserve you _ , Dean needed to say, but his mouth went dry. His hands itched for a beer. It was all too much; the gleaming fissure hovering across the room like an inescapable premonition, Castiel’s somber averted gaze, and the sad upturn of Adam’s lips that graciously meant  _ I forgive you _ . 

The man stared at Dean for a final moment, eyes glinting as if he could see right through him, and said, “Good luck.” 

He left quietly, and Dean and Castiel were promptly surrendered to the foreboding murmur of Purgatory. The hunter–slowly, carefully–turned to the angel, and their eyes met for the first time in ages. 

Dean shoved his phone into his pocket, glancing at Castiel from across the room. “Alright, uh, so I texted Sam and Eileen. No answer,” he announced, brief and concise. That’s the way they were now. The inveterate hunter shot a bullet, and this time, he wasn’t proud of hitting his target; it ricocheted off the walls of Dean and Cas’s relationship, reverting them to mere strangers. It was Dean Winchester and Castiel now. Separate. Detached. 

“We have a time limit, Dean. I will go alone if I have to,” Castiel said, as gravelly and defiant as ever; it reminded Dean of when they first met. The angel’s voice was always so carefully flat and monotonous, as if he was overseeing his own actions; suppressing, controlling. Like he was holding back anything instinctually human that threatened to overflow. 

“Damn it, I don’t–” Dean furrowed his eyebrows, frustration building in his throat. He resisted the urge to lift a hand to his face. “We need to stay together. It’s not safe.” 

_ I’m not leaving you in there, not again.  _

Castiel inhaled sharply, looking at his feet, and then back to the door. His expression was resigned, like he was explaining something to a child. “I am an  _ angel _ , Dean, and Purgatory is not unfamiliar to me.” 

“Yeah, I know that. Purgatory ain’t exactly new territory,” Dean replied, a sinking feeling accompanying his words. A year–that’s how long he spent looking for the angel. Running and fighting and killing to finally reach him at that stream bank. It was far from simple back then, but it was sure as hell simpler than now. “...but we can’t just jump in headfirst and not expect every monster and Leviathan to come running our way.” 

Castiel’s jaw clenched, and he still refused to meet Dean’s eyes. “There is no point in postponing this.” 

Dean’s heart accelerated as the angel turned around– _ No way in hell you’re going back in there alone– _ and marched toward the door. He was leaving again, leaving Dean, but no matter how much the man knew he deserved it, he was  _ not _ going to let it happen. “Fix it,” was Rowena’s stern order _ . Fix it before it’s too late _ , but now Castiel was disappearing in more ways than one. 

“Cas, wait–”

_ Don’t go, please, don’t go. _

As he turned to look back at Dean, the hunter’s feet froze to the bunker floor. The weight of millennia always made Castiel carry himself with an  _ ancientness,  _ yet he seemed so unspeakably young now, as if he was holding every broken piece of his soul together. The angel was being honest, Dean could tell, and the truth hurt for both of them. He was leaving– _ always _ the first to leave–and Dean couldn’t stop it. 

“If you want to stay here, then by all means, stay here,” the man echoed, sending a shiver through Dean’s heart, and disappeared into the glowing crevasse of light. 

Dean couldn’t remember how he ended up here. 

Seconds ago, he was peering into the ashy forests of Purgatory, inhaling the putrid malodor of death and decay. Milliseconds ago, razor-sharp Leviathan teeth had been at his neck, lunging closer, closer, closer; then there was a warmth on Dean’s back, a calloused hand, disappearing almost as soon as it touched the fabric of his jacket. The familiar hum of Purgatory vanished; all the hunter could hear was his own breathless gasps, the stumble of his feet on the bunker floor, and the  _ snap _ of the portal closing behind him. 

If Dean didn’t know any better, this was a miracle of God. Unfortunately, as much as he wanted to forget it, he knew Chuck; the bastard had less-than-holy intentions for the hunter and anyone he cared about. There was an uncomfortable swell of silence, the sound of  _ nothing _ bleeding into his ears as he stared at the empty space behind him. Muscles still tense from the shock. Eyes wide and full of horror. 

“No, no, no,” Dean muttered, forcing his legs to move forward. He stepped into the space where the portal had been, eyes searching frantically. Rage built up in Dean’s chest as he dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands. A mix of grief and anger swirled tumultuously through his mind; Cas was still there, alone, with the Leviathans. This was worse than Dean could imagine; the angel’s powers were failing, and It was hard enough to hold them back when he had all of his grace. They were trying so damn hard, but something always went wrong. 

“DAMN YOU!” He exploded, throwing his body at one of the concrete walls. Dean’s hand connected with the doorframe, knuckles cracking painfully. He punched it repeatedly, fist numb with fury. There was too much he wanted to scream, too many emotions coursing through his body, and not enough time, never enough time. God, Chuck, would never stop meddling in their lives, rewriting their stories, taking Mary, taking Jack; and now Cas was stolen away from him too, one of the few people Dean had left. There was too much he hadn’t said. And now he might never get the chance. 

His gripped the doorframe, the wood digging sharply into the skin of his forehead. His eyes were getting blurrier, heavier, and the exhaustion from everything in his life seemed to weigh him down in the moment. His thoughts, regretful and angry and horrified, only racing with one thing:  _ Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas… _

Dean shakily pulled his phone out of his pocket, scrolled through it, and stared for a moment. He called Sam, but it immediately went to voicemail. “Come on, Sammy. Pick up, pick up…”  _ This is Sam. Call me back.  _ Dean wiped a hand over his eyelids. Now he had his brother to worry about too. All he knew was that Sam and Eileen were out on a hunt. And he was completely and utterly alone. 

Dean numbly made his way upstairs and entered his room. Everything was where it should be, which felt wrong, because nothing in his life was where it should be. Cas should be here, Sam should be here, Eileen, Jack, Mom, they should all be by his side. But he pushed most of them away.  _ Look where that got me _ , he thought bitterly,  _ So now what?  _

Dean hesitated a moment before sitting down on the edge of his bed. The mattress dipped beneath him as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He hung his head, exhaustion like a chain around his neck.  _ Fix it. Fix it. Fix it. _

Everything came back to him in a wave of regret and guilt: Nearly killing Jack, Cas’ desperate eyes begging him to leave the kid alone;  _ You’re dead to me _ , Dean gritting out as he pointed an angry finger, Cas’ face tightening into something the hunter soon realized was pained resignation; blaming Cas for Rowena, saying things he could never take back, the waning footsteps up the bunker stairs, Dean resisting the urge to flinch as the door slammed shut; and he knew at that moment his anger had been directed at the person in his life who least deserved it. 

_ I gave everything for you, and this is what you give to me!  _ Dean remembered Cas shoving him into a wall, shouting in fury. Part of him wanted that, for Cas to do anything other than avoid his eyes, full of hurt and sadness. Anger was easier, because the hunter had a temper, and he knew how to remedy it. Knowing Dean was the one who put such a pained look on Cas’ face, it was so much worse than anger.

Dean interlaced his fingers tightly, feeling nervousness prickle the back of his neck. He hadn’t called out to, hell, _ anyone _ , for a very long stretch of time. He didn’t think anyone besides Cas cared enough to answer him. And now he might have lost that too. So, Dean swallowed the anxiety, guilt, contrition, and he prayed. 

“Cas, you got your ears on?” He began, wondering if the angel even had enough grace to hear him anymore. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to listen to,” Dean paused, furrowing his eyebrows, “but I…I can’t do this alone.”

It was always Dean who needed Cas– _ Castiel _ , angel of the Lord. But when the tables turned, who was there for him? Who could Cas pray to?  _ I certainly did a piss-poor job of returning the favor, huh? _ Dean recalled. 

“I don’t want to do this without you. I need you, Cas,” he choked out the name, as if it hurt just to say. To remember how badly he messed up. Their relationship was far too strained now to still be using the nickname Dean gave him; he didn’t want to give that up, one of the last few things that gave them any semblance of  _ normal _ . 

“I messed up, and I took everything that went wrong out on you,” Dean said shakily, and felt like the worst person alive remembering what he said to the man who was supposed to be his best friend. He brought his hands up to his lips, gripping them tighter. 

“But I’m not letting you stay trapped in there, in Purgatory. Not again. I should’a said this ages ago: Thank you, for everything, for putting up with my BS. And if you don’t want to come back because… because you’re moving on, I don’t blame you.” 

Every part of Dean wanted Cas to come back to him, unabashed and unashamed, to simply stand by his side. To look at him. To talk to him. And he knew it was selfish, but he couldn’t help hoping Cas would forgive him, however long it took. It grew like a tumor on his conscience over the years, the thirst for forgiveness he wasn’t worthy of. It would take a fool not to notice that Dean coveted Cas’ presence, less because he was an angel, and more because he was human. Since  _ Dean _ was human, he couldn’t help his fierce and desperate instinct to laugh, to cry, to love, to hate, to yearn; and because of anything and everything that made humans  _ human _ , Dean loved Cas. There was no changing that, because that’s just the way it was. 

Dean shuddered, throat feeling weak. “I’m gonna make this right,” he promised, “‘cause you’re family, and I love my family to hell and back.” 

Flames, and fear, and pain. Then, a light, and a burning sensation erupting from his shoulder.  _ I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.  _ A fiery handprint, the shape of Cas’ hand. 

Salty tears dripped into the cracks of Dean’s interwoven fingers, trembling under the enormity of his words. “That means you, Cas, and even if you never talk to me again, I want you to know that–” he swallowed, heart aching painfully. He saw Cas, turned slightly to face him, eyes so full of sadness Dean wanted to look away. He stared as Cas left, feeling the broken chasm in his stomach widen, and he did nothing. Cas was gone. 

_ “ _ I love you.” Dean said. His heart pounded against his ribcage like a drum in an empty auditorium. Cas had to hear him, because if he didn’t, the hunter wouldn’t know what to do then. 

He forced his tongue to move again, despite it feeling like cement, “A-And I always will. The sacrifices you’ve made for me, and for Sammy, they’re heavy. You don’t deserve that weight on your shoulders, Cas, and you don’t deserve me adding to it anymore.” 

Adam’s soft voice, his forgiving smile.  _ Since when do we get what we deserve? Look beside you, Dean Winchester. Since when did you  _ ever _ deserve him? _

It was too much. It was all too much. He wiped his eyes roughly as the tears overflowed. Bowing his weary head, Dean whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 


End file.
